


To the Victor Belong

by Medie



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-29
Updated: 2010-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-08 12:30:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are akin, she and he, and the easy knowledge of it pleases her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Victor Belong

**Author's Note:**

> Was intended as a drabble for [](http://community.livejournal.com/bridge2sickbay/profile)[**bridge2sickbay**](http://community.livejournal.com/bridge2sickbay/) based on "Go" but time and length got away from me.

1.

She's _gorgeous_. Jim's known a girl or two in his day, but when the Orion turns his way, even he has to admit it. She's gorgeous in a way that's impossible to truly describe. It's not her face or her body, although both are pretty damn impressive in their own right. She's obviously beautiful, riotous red curls framing a stunning green-skinned face sitting atop a body that's an invitation to every kind of sin imaginable and then some, but that's not it.

It's probably cliche to say it's her eyes, but that's not why he discounts them either. They're laughing, merry, confident that she has the attention of every person in the place. They're beautiful, but they're not it either.

He's halfway across the quad, dodging cadet and instructor alike, before he gets _it_. Feels the truth of it fill the air around her, like an aura, or whatever. It surrounds her, permeates her, and fills the space between them.

She's _alive_. Every breath is a challenge to the universe, every movement of her body a victory over entropy, and she vibrates defiance.

It's wrapped up in a smile, brilliant and beautiful, but it's still there. The razor's edge buried beneath the cotton candy.

She stops, smiling at him. "Hi."

2.

In her world, he would be prized. She would have a fight on her hands to keep him from the Syndicate's elite. The pirate queens of old would rise up in their predecessors, tradition demanding the stronger take the spoils, and Gaila laughs to think of it. She would be the victor, of course, refusing to surrender him or any other prize.

That it is only in part because of her affection for him is one reason she keeps her thoughts to herself. She's free of the Syndicate's power games, free of the grasping claws of its leaders, free to make her own way. Lust for power and wealth does not drive her anymore, she chooses for herself. She is not the Syndicate's blade loosed upon weak fools.

Jim would be quite a prize indeed, but that is not why she chooses him.

In the dark, music throbbing around them, he slips closer to her and ducks his head. His eyes meet hers and she needs no illumination to see the shadows lurking in his gaze.

Gaila twines arms around his neck, pressing into him.

They are akin, she and he, and the easy knowledge of it pleases her.

3.

She finds him after the ceremony. Jim's not surprised that Gaila survived. He did. She would. Still, the sight of her causes something to uncoil inside him. A band of fear he hadn't realized releases and his breathing comes easier with it.

Tears burn at his eyes, but they flow free from hers and she reaches out, sliding one hand across his. He doesn't close his fingers around it, not right away, not trusting that she's real. He's keeping company with more than a few ghosts these days - why not one more?

She smiles, stepping into him until she's flush against him. Her head tips up, eyes peering at him from beneath those curls. "We never did finish that conversation," she says, not needing to clarify _which_ conversation she means.

He flushes. Something she's always enjoyed, a point she proves by smiling. "I did, well," he shrugs. "I promise it wasn't something you told me." And it wasn't. He wanted to, god knows he was tempted, but -- he flushes just a little deeper. "I couldn't."

Gaila laughs, soft, and nods. "I know." Her head tips to one side, her smile taking on a sly edge. "That would be too easy for you."

He huffs a small chuckle. "You trying to say I do things the hard way?"

"Yes."

He gives her that one. "Point."

Silence takes them then. She tucks her head beneath his chin and he presses a cheek into her hair. They're standing outside Starfleet Command, he in command gold and she in sciences blue, but they might as well be on the other side of the quadrant for all they care.

He thinks of everything he's wanted to say, everything that came to mind in the aftermath of Vulcan, Nero, and the whole goddamn universe going insane. Funny, then, that not a single word of it crosses his lips.

He closes his eyes.

4.

"Lieutenant, huh?" Picking up her discarded uniform tunic, Jim fingers the braid on the sleeve and looks at her. Gaila believes that such an innocuous act should not be sexually stimulating and yet she finds herself tempted to reach for him again.

"Uh huh," she nods. "Commander Spock's recommendation. On the matter of computer code I am," she deepens her voice into what she knows is an eerie approximation of Spock's voice, "most proficient."

He grimaces, flicking the tunic at her. "Please," he says, "never do that again?"

Laughing, Gaila throws it back. "I promise nothing to no one." She gives into the itch of her fingers and reaches for him. His skin is still damp with sweat, warm where she's loved him, and the knowledge of it pleases her. "He has offered me a position within his department."

She watches Jim's eyes as he takes in the news. "And?" he asks in a voice that's too controlled. Too wary. Too much of things that not even Gaila and all her daring will touch in this moment.

Sliding lower, she curls one leg around his and pulls him flush against her.

5.

He wakes before she does. It's early, still dark, and Gaila is curled against him. One hand rests light against his chest while the other lays flat on the pillow.

Jim tries to picture day after day of this and scares himself with the sudden pang of desire. Not for her, that's ever constant, but for the image painting itself in his mind. He's tempted to kiss her, indulge in the feeling of her lips on his, but he won't wake her. Not yet.

Instead, he tries to relax. Let her rest. Give himself a moment to think. He's seen her record, had the conversation with Spock, he knows that as an officer she damn well deserves an Enterprise posting. He _knows_, but it's hard not to doubt himself. To wonder if he's making the right call.

At the thought, he cringes. Or, more accurately, he cringes at the sound of it. Her competence and his feelings don't belong in the same galaxy, much less the same sentence. At least, not like _that_.

He shakes his head and realizes that this, more than any actual abuses, is why most captains avoid intraship relationships. He closes his eyes, listening to the sound of her breathing against the silence and tries to think like the captain he's supposed to be.

On the face of it, her record is the deciding vote. She deserves an Enterprise posting. The Enterprise deserves the best Starfleet can offer. The captain's personal idiocy doesn't get a vote.

She stirs, not quite waking, and her hand moves restlessly over him. It's soothing. He brings a hand up to cover hers and lets his eyes slide open to the slow encroachment of dawn. The sun's first tendrils are creeping across the room, touching Gaila's bare skin with the barest suggestion of a glow.

Jim curls his fingers around hers and gives himself permission. Leeway to feel relief and terror mixing together in the one breath.

6.

Gaila is not unaware of the speculation. The Terran fascination with mating habits and familial relationships is not solely restricted to Orions. They keep company with Deltans, Vulcans, and so many more in that respect. Like many of her fellows, she long ago resolved not to care.

The decision was a freeing one, but such freedom does have its limits. That Jim wishes to keep their relationship secret is not something she has issue with.

"You don't?" he says, cautious.

It is not a look she enjoys. The ease that has built between them is a treasure, a prize greater than any ship's stolen bounty, and Gaila frowns ever so slightly. "Of course I don't," she says, shrugging. "Why would I?"

Jim fumbles at that, scratches at the back of his neck, and sighs. "I -- " he spreads his hands. "I thought you'd think I was ashamed or something."

Gaila laughs. Nothing restrained about it, she laughs with delight and pounces on him. "As if you would ever be such of me." Trusting him to catch her, she falls into his arms, rolling on the bed until they are a tangle of limbs balanced on its edge.

Terrans are a peculiar lot. It's nothing new to her, but she's reminded all the same. She kisses him. "What do I care what their opinion might be? We are competent in the execution of our duties," more than, but she sees no need for commenting on the matter, "and as long as that doesn't change, what business is it of anyone else?"

He grins, sheepish but relieved, and she kisses him again. "What a prize you are," she says in Orion, pleased when his rosy-hue deepens and betrays his understanding. "I think that I shall keep you."

7.

And so she does.


End file.
